Chapter 365
Her mom squeezes her hand gently. “The baby survived, but p>
“But what, Mom?” Sierra asks impatiently when Aunt Ivy doesn’t finish her sentence.
“But she was taken,” she finishes.
Sierra stares at her, confusion flooding her expression, hope flickering in a way that feels too fragile, too dangerous.
“Can you say that again?” she asks, her voice trembling now.
Noah steps forward then, his voice low but steady as he repeats it. “The baby survived, but two days ago, someone took her p>
It takes a moment. I can see it happening, the way her mind tries to process the words, the way it struggles to catch up with what she’s hearing and when her mind catches up, everything stops.
The words don’t land right away. They hang there, suspended, like they don’t quite belong in reality.
Sierra blinks, then her lips part slightly, but no sound comes out.
“My… baby is missing?” she repeats slowly, like she’s trying to understand the language itself.
She looks from Noah to her mom, then to me, searching for something that makes sense.
“Someone… took my baby?” she asks again, her voice breaking on the last word.
The confusion on her face twists into something and then it finally hits her. She finally understands.
The sound that leaves her is not a normal cry. It’s something deeper. Something broken.
Her entire body jerks as the sob tears through her, and before anyone can react, she rips the IV out of her arm.
“Sierra!” her mom cries, reaching for her.
But she doesn’t stop. She yanks at the wires attached to her chest, pulling them off violently, ignoring the way the machines start beeping frantically around her.
“Give me my baby back!” she screams, her voice raw, cracking under the force of it. “Bring my baby to me p>
I rush forward, trying to grab her hands, trying to stop her from hurting herself, but she shoves me away so hard I stumble back.
“Don’t touch me!” she screams, her eyes wild, filled with a kind of pain I’ve never seen before. “Where is he? Where is my baby p>
She swings her arm, knocking a monitor off the stand. It crashes to the floor with a loud bang, but she doesn’t even flinch.
“Babe, please—” I try again, reaching for her, but this time she lashes out, her hand connecting with me in the process.
The sting barely registers because all I can see is her. All I can see is her breaking. All I can see is her pain.
Aunt Ivy is crying now, trying to hold onto her, but Sierra fights her off just as violently.
“Give him back!” she sobs, her voice breaking over and over again. “Please—just give him back p>
She grabs the edge of the bed and shoves it, the entire thing shifting with the force of her movement. Everything around her starts to fall apart. The machines, trays, and anything within reach.
“Noah, help me!” her mom cries out, panic flooding her voice.
He steps forward, trying to restrain Sierra, but she thrashes against him, her strength fueled entirely by desperation and grief.
“She’s hurting herself!” I shout, my heart pounding as I try to get close enough to help without getting hit again. “Get the doctor now p>
Noah doesn’t hesitate. He’s gone in seconds, the door slamming behind him as Sierra continues to scream, her voice tearing through the room.
“I want my baby!” she cries. “Please—I just want my baby p>
Her words start to blur together, turning into broken sobs, desperate pleas that make my chest ache.
It feels like it goes on forever. Like there’s no way to stop it, but then the door bursts open and the doctors rush in, followed by nurses, their voices overlapping as they take in the chaos.
“Hold her down p>
“We need to sedate her p>
“No—no, let me go!” Sierra screams, fighting against them as they try to restrain her. “Don’t touch me! Give him back p>
It takes multiple people to hold her still.
She thrashes, cries, and begs, her voice breaking again and again as they try to get control of the situation.
“Please…” she sobs, the fight draining out of her for just a second. “Please… just bring him back p>
The needle goes in and her body jerks slightly, then slowly, the fight leaves her.
Her movements weaken, her voice fading into quiet, broken sobs until even those disappear.
Her body goes limp in their hold and silence falls over the room again, but it’s not the same kind of silence as before.
This one feels heavier. Like something irreversible just happened.
I stand there, frozen, my chest tight, my hands shaking as I stare at her.
And for the first time since all of this started, I realize something that makes my stomach drop: if we don’t find her baby, we might lose Sierra too.